


The Mating Dance

by im_an_octopus



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gratuitous Smut, Smut, Vampires, this is so self indulgent it hurts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24485200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_an_octopus/pseuds/im_an_octopus
Summary: After accepting an invitation to the Mikaelson Family Ball, Klaus shows you what it truly means to wine and dine.
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Stefan Salvatore, Elijah Mikaelson/Original Female Character(s), Elijah Mikaelson/You, Klaus Mikaelson/Original Female Character(s), Klaus Mikaelson/Reader
Comments: 30
Kudos: 256





	1. Prologue

It was a Tuesday night when the invitation came. You stood with a furrowed brow, rereading the envelope’s front over again to make sure it was actually addressed to you and not just a mix-up. But sure enough, there was your name written in elegant calligraphy. What was most curious was that there was no stamp or return address. You didn’t even remember initially grabbing it from your mailbox. It seemed to appear at the top of the pile after you showered to procrastinate going through all the bills that’d filled your box.  


You flipped the envelope over to find it was sealed with red wax. The letter “M” was imprinted in the middle.  


“What the fuck,” you muttered as you pried it open.  


After years of bartending, you acquired a number of acquaintances, but nobody came to mind who’d send something like this. The closest thing to aristocratic you’d ever seen was the occasional expensive suit worn by businessmen dropping by on their way home from work.  


The letter inside was on sturdy cardstock with an embossed border and the same swirling font as the envelope:  
__

> _Please join the Mikaelson Family Saturday evening at 7 o’clock for dancing, cocktails, & celebration._

  


Mikaelson family? You didn’t know any members of a Mikaelson family. Puzzled, you flipped the invitation over to find the address of the venue—a hotel you recognized that boasted an ornate ballroom—and a hand-written note. The penmanship was hasty, but graceful.  
__

> _Thank you for the many drinks you’ve poured—allow me to return the favor.  
>  Fondly, Klaus_

  


You stumbled to the couch and plopped down, jaw dropped in disbelief. Klaus. The handsome stranger who’d been frequenting your bar as of late. The one with the spellbinding voice and eyes that stopped your heart every time they met yours.  


The two of you did a healthy amount of flirting—or so you thought. You suspected Klaus just had one of _those_ personalities, but nevertheless, you had a very obvious crush on him, and there was no way in hell he didn’t know. Your coworkers teased you relentlessly. It was a running joke he was probably a vampire, what with the way he could spend the night chatting you up, only to make his way to a random table as he left, say a only few words to its occupants, then head out the door, escorted by his new—always female—companions.

> _Fondly, Klaus._

  


_Fondly._  


The word tripped you up. Were you going to dance the night away and get your brains fucked out? Or was this all merely friendly? Time would tell. But one thing was for sure: you were determined to look better than everyone in that room.


	2. I Put a Spell on You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus dines on his date only to be reminded that compulsion can be tricky. Even for an Original.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blood drinking and slight gore towards the end of the chapter.

It took you a moment to find your breath as you rushed to the ballroom. You were late, thanks to the nervous fretting over your hair and makeup. You tried reasoning that being on time wasn’t fashionable, but in this instance, you were mentally cursing yourself. In the twenty minutes you missed, Klaus found a dance partner.  


She was beautiful and blonde with plump red lips and a flawless complexion. Her dress was royal blue. A fitting color for the way she carried herself. They moved in perfect unison together as they weaved in and out of the other couples, and you thought about leaving. How foolish had you been to show up _alone_ to impress a man who took a different woman home every night right before your eyes? How on Earth did you expect to grab his attention with your two left feet and secondhand gown?  


For the sake of your dignity, or at least your makeup, you begged yourself not to cry. He hadn’t seen you yet. If you turned around right now, he probably wouldn’t even notice you leaving with your tail between your legs. It was still early enough to grab an Uber before the city’s night life made them scarce.  


The waltz was ending. It was time to make a decision.  


“You appear distraught. Is there anything I can do?”  


Startled at the sudden voice, you looked over your shoulder to find that its owner was an incredibly well dressed, incredibly _handsome_ man.  


“O-oh,” you stammered. Heat was rising to the tips of your ears as your plans to be invisible were thwarted. “No, I was just leaving. But thank you.”  


“Come, now. What sort of host would I be if I allowed one of our guests to leave so soon? Especially after all the trouble she has gone to, to show up in the first place,” his voice was gentle and his smile warm. “I’m Elijah.”  


“Did you say _our_ guests?”  


“Elijah Mikaelson,” he replied, putting emphasis on his last name. “My family organized this little gathering.” The dry humor brought a twinkle to his eye as you both surveyed the 200 or so fellow attendees.  


“So…that would make you Klaus’s brother?”  


“It would…which would most likely make you his date, if I’m not mistaken.”  


“I think _date_ is the wrong word,” you muttered. “All I know is I got an invitation in the mail and by the time I got here, he was a little hung up.”  


Elijah tilted his head to the side and then offered his hand. “Many men noticed your arrival. I’m surprised Niklaus wasn’t amongst them. What an absolutely tragic loss for him.”  


You stared at his outstretched hand, unsure of what to do with the simple gesture. To take it was to be whisked away from Klaus and into the arms of his brother. The idea certainly wasn’t a bad one, but there was still something holding you back.  


Sensing your hesitation, Elijah took it upon himself to wrap his long fingers around your palm.  


“My intentions are honorable, I assure you. Just one dance,” he gently urged.  


What the hell, why not? Klaus was now nowhere to be seen, and frankly, Elijah was by no means a bad alternative. You straightened up a bit and took a step closer, nodding.  


“Fair warning. I’m an awful dancer,” you disclosed sheepishly.  


“Then perhaps my brother is the wrong partner. He enjoys overcomplicating things—fancy footwork and twirls and the like.”  


Klaus’s familiar voice manifested abruptly to your right, and your stomach flopped in on itself. There he was, dressed to the nines in an expensive tuxedo, looking even better than you’d imagined.  


“Niklaus. How nice of you to finally join your date,” Elijah quipped as he quickly released your hand.  


Klaus remained unbothered. He gave his brother an affectionate clap on the shoulder.  


“What sort of brother would I be to abandon our baby sister on the dance floor?”  


“That’s your _sister!_ ” It was too late when you realized how overly elated you sounded. The brothers exchanged a look as they picked up on your jealousy. Both seemed amused, but Klaus had the added air of smugness about him.  


He moved between you and Elijah. “Yes. That waltz is her favorite and her betrothed isn’t here to share it with her. I figured rather than have her mope around, I’d offer a dance.”  


“Marcellus still isn’t here?” Elijah raised his brow in concern.  


Klaus shrugged. “No. Bad weather delayed his flight. The last I heard, he was still in New Orleans. Perhaps it’s your turn to offer our sister your condolences. Maybe keep her out of trouble, eh?”  


“It’s you who I worry about, brother,” Elijah deflected, “keep an eye on him, will you?”  


You smiled, tight-lipped, and nodded. The longer you were in their presence, the more overwhelmed you felt. In another universe, perhaps you could have found something witty to say. Something sly and flirtatious that would earn you the validation of having _both_ brothers chuckling. Instead, all you could muster was a pitiful: “I’ll try my best.”  


You caught the faintest glimpse of concern on Elijah’s face as Klaus offered his arm. “I believe I promised you a drink.”  


* * *

Rebekah plucked a champagne flute off a passing waiter’s tray and huffed. _“Moping?”_  


“That’s what he said,” Elijah replied. He raised his own glass to his lips and took a sip.  


“Please! I was having a lovely chat with,” she paused, searching for a name she’d already forgotten, then decided it was unimportant, “someone of influence in this city, and he comes sauntering over to drag me away. The very point of this was to stake our claim here and he’s more focused on making his most recent blood bag _jealous_. Typical.”  


“You know how he gets, sister.”  


“No, I don’t, Elijah. In the old days he’d compel them and get it over with. Nik’s patience for the hunt is new.”  


“Why are you so fussed about this?”  


“I don’t like being made to be some lovesick schoolgirl. I have a reputation to build just as much as either of you. There are plenty of other pawns here for him to use in his games.” She snapped.  


“Yes, but you’re the only one here who seems to have any dance experience,” Elijah smiled. “The people of Chicago clearly need a bit more culture in their lives.”  


Rebekah narrowed her eyes and drummed her manicured fingers against the champagne flute. “A valiant effort, Elijah…though, you’re not wrong.”  


“I rarely am.”  


* * *

“You look ravishing in that gown,” Klaus breathed in your ear. “Forgive me for not telling you sooner.”  


You were pressed together, swaying back and forth to the lazy tempo of whatever song was playing. It was difficult to hear over the pounding of your heart and soft words drifting in the small space between you. You inhaled sharply. As if the sentiment would float away if you didn’t consume it right then and there.  


His hand, which once held a more gentlemanly placement on your back, had since drifted downward to the base of your spine. It electrified the core of your being. Especially when you felt his thumb flick at your dress’s zipper pull devilishly.  


“I’d return the compliment, but I’m sure you already know you look incredible, _Niklaus_ ,” you answered. “I’ve never heard a name like that before.”  


He blew a bit of air out his nose and pulled back slightly. “Yes, and there’s a reason you heard it from my brother and not from me. Please, call me Klaus. And don’t refrain from telling me how good I look,” he tacked on at the end.  


“Sorry—you already know you look incredible _Klaus_ ,” you corrected yourself hastily. He seemed pleased by this.  


There was the briefest instant of awkward silence as you inwardly chided yourself for the misstep. Meanwhile, Klaus’s expression was indecipherable. The content, upward tilt of his lips was still there, but his eyes had hardened considerably. They demanded your attention.  


He finally spoke.  


“I’m having a wonderful time, love, but I’m feeling a bit parched. Follow me. You’ll enjoy everything that’s to come.”  


The sounds that came from his mouth were honey. They were thick and sweet and you drank them in ravenously.  


Were you walking or floating? You stuck close to Klaus as he maneuvered his way through the crowd, exchanging the occasional brief greeting and flashing obligatory smiles. Your heels were starting to make your feet ache, and your dress had become unbearably itchy, but right now, Klaus was the only thing that existed. _Keep following him. Keep following him. Keep following him._ He was leading you to something important. Perhaps the most important thing you’d ever encounter in your entire life—no, not perhaps. _Definitely._ It was definitely the most important thing, and if you didn’t stop following him, you’d surely regret it forever.  


You were going up a flight of stairs now. And another. And another. You almost tripped on one—it was slick with something. Most likely spilled champagne from a fellow guest having just as good of a time as you were—no. How silly of you to entertain the idea that someone could possibly enjoy this more than you. Following Klaus. Sitting down on a plush bench in an isolate hallway. Feeling positively euphoric as you held out your wrist for him.  


_Follow me. You’ll enjoy everything that’s to come._  


Those eight words were all that was left in your vocabulary. All you knew. And that was fine. Klaus knew what he was talking about, you were sure. You were sure, you were sure, you were so absolutely sure.  


He sunk his teeth—his _fangs_ —right into the center of your wrist and god did it feel good. Just like he said it would. Even the sting of the initial puncture was wonderful—and you wanted to tell him. You wanted nothing more than to call out his name and tell him how right he was, but all you could do was rest your head against the wall as he drank your blood. Eyes closed. Mouth hanging half open in ecstasy.  


And then it was over. And then you felt a thumb under your chin, tilting you to face him.  


“Be a good girl and look at me, love.”  


You did as you were told. His eyes were darkened like before. They pierced you once again, and for a millisecond, it struck you that _Klaus just drank your blood._  


“You’re going to go back downstairs and call yourself a ride home. You’re too drunk to drive. You overindulged on champagne and don’t remember much from the evening. Take a sick day tomorrow. Recover from your hangover.”  


Right. Yes. You were so drunk. You couldn’t stop thinking about how drunk you were as you stood up, feeling very dizzy. Klaus wasn’t paying attention to you. He was checking himself in a nearby mirror, wiping a smudge of red from the corner of his mouth. You were so drunk. Too drunk to wonder if that was blood or lipstick.  


Black spots dotted your vision as you wobbled down the stairs. _One step._ The room was spinning and you felt exceptionally light-headed. _Two steps._ You were already forgetting the night. Where were you again? _Three steps._ An Uber! You needed to call an Uber!  


The fourth step was when you slipped on the spilled drink that almost tripped you up before.  


You tumbled like a limp doll down the stairs. It was never-ending and painful, and yet, you were still unable to grasp what was happening. Every bone in your body felt like it was broken. Every breath you took grew more and more shallow. The chaos made it feel all the more undignified. All the more agonizing.  
Somewhere in the end, Klaus appeared. He was shoving the palm of his hand over your mouth. Ordering you to do something, though you couldn’t make out what. The world was black as you left your body. 

Until you woke up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was supposed to be just a plot-less smut fic has now become........more. I'm so excited to see where this goes because I honestly have NO IDEA WHERE I'M TAKING IT SO BUCKLE UP.


	3. Bite Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casual murder and sensual blood feeding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Gore

When you came to, you were in an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar bed with an unfamiliar man staring at you. You remained very still as you took inventory of the situation. There were no signs of a struggle. No broken lamps or cracked mirrors. You were still fully clothed in your eveningwear, albeit your heels weren’t on your feet, but rather tucked neatly in the corner. So far, all signs pointed to a little too much champagne and a possible one-night stand.

And then the pain came.

Everything throbbed. Every bone in your body felt like it’d been broken, poorly glued together, and then broken again as you tried to sit up. Your head was on fire, and if you had the ability to think, you might have wondered if your brain got deep-fried in your skull. Then there was the matter of the _hunger_. Every fiber of your being—shattered bones and all—was craving _something_. You weren’t sure what, but the rapid thumping coming from the man’s side of the room seemed like a good clue.

Thump thump thump.

What _was_ that incessant noise, anyway?

Thump thump thump thump thump.

You inhaled and felt your entire body writhe in agony. You’d never felt pain like this. Not in your entire life. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t natural.

Thump thump thump thump thump thump.

“Klaus, she’s awake,” the man said into his phone. You hadn’t even noticed him pull it out—and dear god why did have to _yell?_ The longer you were conscious, the more your senses became overwhelmed. Pain. Hunger. Pain. Hunger. Then sudden realization that the thumping was this man’s heartbeat.

More hunger. More than you’d ever felt in your entire life.

A few moments later the door made an unbearably loud noise as it opened, and you groaned. Klaus strode in followed by a very irritated looking Elijah. Things were coming back to you now in rapid flashes. Your clumsy dancing with Klaus. The trance he put you in just by looking in your eyes and casually speaking a few words. His fucking fangs.

The memories made you feel disgustingly _fragile._

“Well hello there, love. You took quite the tumble, didn’t you?” Klaus stopped by the side of your bed and clasped his arms loosely behind his back. He was bent over slightly, head cocked to the side as he addressed you. “How’s our favorite little lush feeling?”

“Niklaus, that’s enough,” Elijah stated firmly.

Klaus waved a hand dismissively in his brother’s direction. “You know I tease, Elijah. And as for _you_ …surely your memories are coming back to you now, and I can tell by the look on your face the dance we shared isn’t exactly at the forefront of your mind.”

The dance was there. The closeness you felt. The wonderful shape his lips made when he said your name. You suspected it would be for a long time, but he was right. The memory of him _feeding_ on you was much more prominent. 

“You drank my blood and hypnotized me into thinking I was drunk so I’d go home,” you croaked. Your pain had gone down considerably and you felt almost completely lucid. “Then I tripped down the stairs and—”

“You broke your neck,” Klaus finished your sentence for you. “And I reckon quite a few other bones. You wouldn’t be here right now had I not gotten to you when I did. No thanks necessary, by the way. I’ve always had a weakness for _opportunity_.”

“Opportunity…? You make it sound like saving my life was a business deal.”

“To Niklaus, it likely was,” Elijah said.

“Brother, you know how much it irks me when you put words in my mouth,” Klaus replied as an arrogant smile curled over his features. “But yes. I suppose he speaks some truth. You see, initially I just planned to drink your blood and send you home none the wiser, but plans clearly changed—which proves to be fortuitous for both of us. By now you’ve healed, yes?”

You brought your fingertips gingerly up to your neck. There was no pain. None at all. What was once the source of excruciation was now…nothing. You were fine. Well, not fine. There was still the matter of the hunger. Of the resounding heartbeat taunting you from the edge of the bed.

You sat up slowly. Cautiously. Klaus remained where he was. Klaus who just a short while ago had been _feeding_ on your wrist. You had to keep reminding yourself of that.

“You’ll be fine for an hour. Maybe two. But that hunger you feel. The dull ache in your jaw. It will only continue to worsen,” he began. “You’re in a period of transition, love, and I’m here to help. All you have to do is ask.”

“This sounds like a pitch to join a cult.”

Klaus chuckled and straightened out. He shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and tossed it over a chair before fiddling around with his cufflinks. “Hardly. Think of it more as a gift.”

“What my brother is bumbling around to say is that you are transitioning to become a vampire,” Elijah finally cut in. “When you tripped down the stairs, you died, but not before Niklaus managed to give you his blood…which is why you’re still with us now.”

He seemed slightly exhausted as he explained it, as if he’d already done so a thousand times before.

“I think…I want to go home now,” you said quietly. You fixed your eyes on your heels tucked neatly in that corner, right behind Elijah. They were the most expensive part of your outfit, and even now, in the midst of three clearly _psychotic strangers_ , you weren’t looking forward to abandoning them. But this wasn’t right. And you had to run.

“You’re more than welcome to leave, love. And you’re more than welcome to deny your new reality, but you won’t be doing it for long. If you don’t feed on human blood by the end of the day, you will die,” Klaus said nonchalantly. He pulled a small dagger from his back pocket and walked over to the third man in the room. He’d said hardly a word but his heartbeat made him the loudest of all. It was beating faster.

In a swift motion, Klaus dragged the dagger across the man’s throat, then held him up by the scruff of his neck as his knees buckled. You watched in horror as he gurgled and sputtered and grasped at the wound. His eyes were wild and his mouth gaped open and shut, open and shut. It reminded you very much of a fish out of water, flopping around as it suffocated.

There was a frightening appeal to it. The smell filling the room wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced before. A strange, primal feeling shot through your entire body. As if some snarling beast had just woken from its slumber. It was overpowering, and the next thing you knew, you were on him.

You took his face in your hands and moved his head back so you could better access his open jugular. His blood tasted metallic at first. Bitter and slippery and warm. But the more you fed, the more satisfying it became. You started to pick up on flavors you’d never quite tasted before and all you could think about was it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

“That’s a good girl,” Klaus murmured. He ran the backside of his knuckles gently across your jaw.

Your eyes flicked up as you drank. Klaus was still holding the man up for you, and it brought his face impossibly close to yours in what felt like a macabre threesome. A splatter of blood dotted one of his cheeks and you hoped to god he wouldn’t wipe it away before you were done. You wanted it for yourself. You wanted to drag your tongue over his stubble so you could truly savor every last drop of this stranger’s blood. The taste of Klaus’s aftershave and feel of his breath on your skin would be a welcome addition. There was a certain appeal to pairing sex and blood together, and a million scenarios flashed through your head. Elijah, ever so quiet off to the side, even joined you both in some of them. But before you could act on any of that, first you had to finish draining this corpse—

A sudden moment of clarity ruined your moment. _You had to finish draining a corpse._

You shoved the body away from you, and fell back on the bed’s edge as Klaus wavered slightly from the sudden motion.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, bringing a shaky hand up to your mouth. It was covered in red. Everything was covered in red. “What did I just do?”

“You became a vampire, love. That’s what you did.”

You looked up at Klaus in disgust. Was it really that simple? Was this really it?

“I thought I had until the end of the day to decide…” You were trembling. The room was spinning. Everything felt like it was multiplied by 100. “I don’t…I don’t want this.”

“I very plainly stated that you had until the end of the day to drink blood from a human or die. The moment that man’s blood touched your lips your fate was sealed. The choice was all yours to make, and make it you most _certainly_ did.”

“What!? No, that’s not fair! You _manipulated_ me,” you cried out in dismay. Hot tears fell down your cheeks. They made small steaky paths over the drying blood. 

“I did nothing of the sort,” Klaus retorted, seeming genuinely offended. “You were forced to do nothing. Your actions—your _choices_ —were completely your own.” 

Elijah placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder and narrowed his eyes. “Clean yourself up and go back to the party, Niklaus. Your brand of compassion isn’t fit for the situation at hand. I will handle this. You go see to our guests.”

* * *

Elijah was hovering over you when your eyes fluttered open. It was his voice that woke you. Perhaps in another life it would be nice to lie in a comfortable bed with a handsome man looking at you so intensely, but all he did was confirm that everything happening was in fact, not a dream.

You sat up, slowly, and looked around. You were still in your gown—now stiff with dry blood—and he in his tuxedo, but you weren’t in the same room. This one was much older, and from the looks of it, not in the hotel. There was a slight musty smell to it, the type you only found in museums, and there wasn’t a single modern piece of furniture in sight.

“Where am I?” You asked quietly.

“You’re safe,” Elijah replied. “I’ve brought you here until other arrangements can be made. We’re still somewhat settling in ourselves, so we don’t have much in terms of guest amenities, but—”

“I don’t even remember falling asleep…did I get hypnotized again?”

“It’s called compulsion. And yes, you did. I felt it would be best for all of us to have you rest.”

“Compulsion…” The word felt heavy on your tongue as you repeated it to yourself. “So, like, mind control? You’re mind controlling me?”

Elijah bit back a smile and shook his head.

“You understandably have questions that I’m more than happy to answer. But first, let’s get you out of those clothes.”


	4. Lesson One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angry at Klaus for turning you into a vampire, you decide to fuck his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Smut
> 
> We're back to our regularly scheduled Klaus content in the next chapter...I just had to get this out of my system.

It was starting to rain when Elijah returned with a woven basket. He set it on the end table beside you, before producing a dampened towel.

“For you to clean yourself up,” he explained, then nodded at the basket, “and a change of clothes. I’ll be just outside the door.”

The moment you took the cloth from his hand, he was gone. You stared at it blankly. Frankly, you didn’t care about getting yourself cleaned up—you wanted answers. Granted, there was also a small part of you that dreaded looking in the mirror.

After a few moments of mental preparation, you rose to your feet and crossed the room. The mirror was full-length and surrounded by polished oak. Small designs were carved throughout, but it was the two cherubs at the top that really drew the eye. They seemed to be looking down on your reflection. Playing their little harps, unaffected by the bloody girl standing before them.

There she was. Covered in dried blood, with smeared mascara and one missing earring. Chicago’s newest vampire in all her glory.

You began dabbing the cloth on your skin, starting first with your hands, then moving upwards. Your chin and chest got the worst of it, but there were still stray red flecks on your shoulders and arms. The entire front of your gown was saturated in that same rusty red color. It was an ugly contrast to the dress’s original ruby tone.

When you were as clean as you could manage, you reached to unzip your dress. Your fingers managed to just barely graze the pull, but never quite grip it. Just a short while ago, Klaus had been the one touching it as you danced. Playing with it coyly—to what end? Now that you knew what his intentions truly were, what was the _point_? All he had to do was compel you to get what he wanted. Why the effort? Why the theatrics? Why go to the trouble of visiting you so often at your bar?

In a fit of frustration, you gave up on the zipper and tore the entire thing off. It was easy. The fabric felt like tissue as you ripped it from your body. God you fucking _hated_ him. You hated every last second of time wasted thinking about him. You hated every type of craft beer you poured him as you tried to impress him with your knowledge. You hated every girl he left with, for making you jealous. And most of all you hated your fucking dress.

It lay crumpled at your feet, and you kicked it for good measure. You looked back in the mirror. Your breathing was heavy, and even with the blood wiped away, you still saw red.

Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself to look away from the mirror and back to the basket Elijah left. There were a few toiletries inside—a brush, toothpaste, and soap—and underneath them was a carefully folded, satin nightgown. You ran your fingers over the soft material before pulling it out to get a better look. It was Edwardian in style, with delicate lace trim and a flowing skirt. At one point you could tell it was blindingly white, but with age it picked up a warmer tint.

You put it on and felt immediately relieved to be clothed in something that wasn’t drenched in blood, though the thinness of the fabric gave you something new to be self-conscious about. Apparently nobody took lacey black thongs into account when they were designing clothes 120 years ago…Elijah would be able to see everything.

“You can come in,” you called and the door creaked open. You sat on the edge of the bed and self consciously crossed your arms over your chest.

While Elijah waited outside, he shed a few layers himself. His jacket, vest, and bowtie were all missing, leaving him in a white dress shirt with the sleeves pushed to his elbows. Your mouth went dry. It was a very good look for him.

“I suppose you won’t be needing your dress laundered,” he remarked towards your shredded gown.

“Oh, right…I couldn’t get the zipper so...” you trailed off, feeling suddenly embarrassed about your fit of rage, “I prefer the Victorian ghost girl dress, anyways. Much more comfortable.”

He smiled and put his hands casually in his pockets. “Its original owner is likely turning in her grave…you wear it better than she ever did, even when it was still in fashion.”

“This is the real deal…?”

“Yes.”

“You’re just letting a stranger wear a beautiful antique nightgown that’s worth god knows how much?”

“Actually, I’m giving it to you. I’m unsure of how long you will be our guest for. We can’t have you walking around unclothed now, can we?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Your head was spinning. Everything was going at a million miles per hour, and the only thing you could clearly see through the world’s blur was Elijah. Elijah and those god damn nice arms of his. You swallowed thickly and tried to ground yourself.

“Understandable.” He said.

There was a lengthy silence. There were a thousand questions you had and things you wanted to say, and it felt like it was all trying to escape you at once. Every word, thought, and feeling was seated on the tip of your tongue and braced against your teeth. If you opened your mouth it would all surely spill out onto the creaky floorboards beneath your feet, and that was the last thing you wanted. You sensed Elijah was powerful, even for a vampire. Granted, you didn’t really have a point of reference to compare him to…but your instincts, the new ones, they told you he was dangerous. 

“I just…I just really liked your brother,” you finally said miserably, “you know? Like…I spent night after night having these great conversations with him then watching him leave my bar with people who weren’t _me_ , then I _finally_ get my shot and it’s this. Why make me spend a couple hundred bucks on a dress and drag my ass out to a ball just to drink my blood? Why not just compel me and get it done with like the others?”

“Even after 1,000 years, I have yet to understand the motivation behind many of my brother’s actions, but I will tell you this: there is always an ulterior motive. I’ve cleaned enough of his messes to know this for a fact…may I?” He motioned to the empty spot next to you on the bed. You scooted over to make room.

“You’re not wrong that I’m a mess, but I’m still offended.”

Elijah searched your face as he sat beside you. It was impossible to tell whether or not you were joking. Even you weren’t sure of your intentions.

“There is often beauty in chaos…this is a mess I’m happy to dirty my hands in.”

The room felt thirty degrees hotter as each word fell from his lips. He was looking straight ahead, and so were you. In the reflection of the window, you saw his brow furrowed in thought as his chest rose and fell just a little heavier than it needed to.

His thigh had been pressed against yours since he sat down, and you ventured a peek downward. The fabric of his trousers was pulled taut across his legs and you gulped, snapping your eyes back up before your hormones got the best of you. Hadn’t you just been tearing up a dress in a fit of rage just minutes prior?

“I can’t tell if you’re flirting or this is just how you are.”

“It’s a mixture,” he replied without hesitation. There was a certain playfulness that’d crept into his voice. “In the same vein, I can’t tell if you’re reciprocating or just looking for carnal revenge on my brother.”

“It’s a mixture.”

Elijah kissed you before you could say anything more. He tangled his fingers in the root of your hair, right at the base of your skull, and kissed you hard. And you kissed him right back with just as much fervor.

Then, with a small tug, he yanked your head back, exposing your neck to the open. With his free hand, he dragged his fingers slowly down the skin of your throat, to the center of your clavicles, to the spot where your flesh ended and your nightgown began. He admired the lace and the way you quivered eagerly beneath it, waiting for him to make a move.

With one smooth motion, he dipped his head down to drag his tongue over your neck. He could still taste the blood on you from before. It was absolutely intoxicating.

“Are you going to drink from me?” It came out as more of a request than you meant it to. Your hand had found its way to the small of his back where you pressed him closer to you.

“Not yet,” he replied. You felt him smile against your neck as he ripped the nightgown off your body.

The stitches were loud as they tore, then just like that, 120 years of careful preservation were undone as it fell uselessly to the ground. You repaid the favor by ripping open the front of his shirt, making a point to get as many buttons to fly off as possible.

He rose to his feet and pulled you with him, then with a whooshing noise, you were slammed against a wall. The sensation was fiery on your back, and you grunted upon impact, but kept at him hungrily. He’d activated some sort switch within you. Each touch, each kiss, each _whoosh_ of air as he slammed you against something new; it reduced you to a feral mess, and you hadn’t even gotten his shirt completely off yet.

That was soon to change. You pushed it off over his shoulders and to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Next his belt clacked loudly against the floorboards as it dropped. Then his shoes, pants, and socks, finally leaving you both on an even playing ground.

Elijah hovered above you, using one arm for balance while his other hand caressed your cheek. He ran his tongue slightly over his bottom lip as he studied you. You could only imagine how you must look from his point of view. Breathless. Aching for him to be inside of you.

His body was unsurprisingly flawless, with a perfectly toned torso and sculpted legs. Seeing him up close— _feeling_ him pressed against you had your thighs slick, and you were beginning to grow impatient. There was still one last article of clothing to be removed from the both of you.

Elijah kissed you again and slid his hand down to graze his fingers over your panties. You groaned and arched your back into his touch. Pleased by your reaction, he slipped his ring finger under the material and inside you. The motion caught you off guard—you were expecting him to drag it out, maybe even make you beg a bit, but he’d already found a nice rhythm gently stroking your g-spot.

He added another finger and picked up his pace. The corner of his mouth was tilted up. He seemed to enjoy watching you writhe around beneath him, moaning softly and calling his name. You reached to pull at the waistband of his boxers. You needed him to fuck you more than you’d ever needed anything in your life. He glanced at your hands and finally obliged, taking a step back to peel off that last bit of clothing while you took the chance to remove your own.

You’d hardly even had the chance to take in his form before he whooshed you on the bed. You were both on your knees, with him pressed against you from behind. One of his hands gripped the bottom of your neck while he guided himself inside you with the other. You moaned and faltered slightly as your body adjusted to him. You’d had your share of partners in the past, but none of them had ever felt quite so _good_.

“Lesson one of being a vampire,” Elijah breathed in your ear. His voice was low and husky as he tilted your chin to look forward. A wave of adrenaline coursed through you when you saw he’d positioned you both perfectly in front of the mirror. “Everything is heightened. All of your senses,” he trailed his hand down your torso and stopped just under your belly button. Mere inches from where you needed him most. “You will have to relearn your entire body.” He nipped at your earlobe as he started rocking his hips back and forth.

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure farther throughout your body. You felt him everywhere from your core all the way to the tips of your fingers. Eventually, as he picked up his pace, he began rubbing circles on your clit. He’d had a thousand years to practice and it showed.

Your bodies were both glistening slightly with sweat as you looked onward towards the mirror. His eyes were intense, and they kept yours fixed on your reflection. He wanted you to watch the way he took you hard from behind. The way his hands brought you so much pleasure as he explored every inch of your body. You needed more.

“Harder,” you pleaded—but it had the opposite effect that you wanted. Elijah slowed his thrusting and shook his head.

“Ask nicely,” he said. He made no effort to hide his amusement as you tried desperately to grind your hips against him.

“Please. Please, please, _please_ fuck me harder, Elijah. I’m begging you.” 

His fingers dug into your skin a bit more at the sound of his name. 

“A little politeness can get you a long way—don’t you ever forget that.” It was both a lesson and a command, but you barely registered it either way. He was giving it to you how you wanted now. Rough. Hard. Fast. He was breathing heavily. Sighing and groaning in your ear as he fucked you roughly in front of the mirror.

You could feel yourself getting close, and either you managed to find the words to tell him so, or he read your body, but as you moaned and buckled and shook, he pulled you even closer against him, went deeper inside you. Harder. Turned your world upside-down, and then sunk his teeth into your neck as the both of you came.

You nearly blacked out as Elijah fed on you. It was too much for your body to handle, and your orgasm rippled through you so intensely you thought you might fall apart at the seams. You never wanted it to end—this feeling of exhilaration and danger, and you tilted your head to give him better access to the vein. He wrapped his arms tightly around you to hold you close against him as he became lost in his gratitude. It was one of the most intimate things you’d ever experienced.

When Elijah finally pulled away, he kissed you and you tasted your blood on his lips. The punctures he’d left on your neck had already since healed, but he ran his fingers over the spot he bit, checking you for good measure.

“It seems two dresses have now become casualties of yours this evening. I’ll find you something suitable to wear tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden coy remark.

“That’s the last thing on my mind right now. But thank you.”

Elijah smiled and kissed your temple, then readjusted so the two of you were laying side by side. Sleep came to you easily.

When you woke up in the morning, he was gone. In his place was a new pile of clothes, and a cryptic note that filled you with a sense of dread.

> _Do not open the curtain. -Elijah_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a Klaus girl who is so mf thirsty for Elijah, too. Thank you for patiently letting me tend to said thirst in the midst of this fic...the attention is back to our favorite hybrid in the next chapter :) Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!!


	5. Our Little Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You reflect on how charming Klaus was before he turned you...and how even after, he's maybe still a little tiny bit charming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Brief gore

You wondered how many antique nightgowns Elijah had stored away as you slipped into the newest one he’d left. It wasn’t quite as elegant as the one he’d given you—and ripped off you—the night before, but it was better than wandering around naked.

When you were fully clothed, you turned your attention back to his note. It was much too ominous for your liking, and you wasted no time in crumpling it up and tossing it back on the nightstand. The curtains he instructed you not to open were made of a thick, expensive looking material that blocked you from the rest of the world, and it suddenly made you very nervous. What would you see when you pulled them back? Would you be in a different city? A different country? Underground? Deep in the woods?

The novelty of spite-fucking Klaus’s Hot Brother was wearing off quickly as reality set in. You’d stupidly let two strange vampires bring you to their home…wherever the hell that was. 

You took a breath and gripped one of the curtains, preparing yourself to draw them back when a familiar voice sounded off behind you, causing you to recoil last minute.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

It was Klaus. Speak of the devil.

You whipped your head around and narrowed your eyes. He was standing only a few feet away from you, wearing a smug smile and one of his usual henley’s. You hated yourself for noting it was the same one he wore the first time you ever saw him.

* * *

**_Three months prior._ **

_Your body ached and your eyes struggled to stay open after a grueling double shift. Working at a bar in the heart of Chicago made St. Patrick’s Day especially rough, but for some reason this year felt like it was the most brutal of all. You hadn’t been sleeping well as of late, which probably had something to do with it, plus a piece of green glitter got stuck under your lash-line at the start of the day and still refused to budge._

_Last call was approaching, but the building was still packed to capacity. You were already dreading the drunken beratement from your patrons after you stopped serving. It was always amazing how quickly these happy-go-lucky partygoers could turn rabid._

_Two especially drunk men seated themselves at the bar for a large portion of your shift. You’d been serving them watered-down Jack and Cokes for about an hour now, hoping they’d move along, but with no such luck. Until Klaus walked in._

_You watched as he clapped his hand on one of their shoulders, and mumbled something you couldn’t hear over the noise. They settled their checks, gave you a much more generous tip than expected, and left. Klaus wasted no time in occupying one of the seats while his companion—who you later learned to be his brother Kol—took the other. Suddenly your day was looking up as this handsome stranger gave you a close-lipped smile._

_“It looked like you were in need of some new company,” he said. “I’ll have whatever the best bourbon is that you have on-hand, and please don’t dilute it with anything green, love.”_

* * *

You cleared your throat as you tried to push the charming, handsome Klaus you’d come to know out of your mind. You’d seen his true colors now and that was something you’d have to get used to if you had any hope of preserving your dignity.

“You’re the second person to tell me that this morning,” you replied curtly. Your hand still hadn’t released its grip on the curtain.

“All the more curious, then, as to why you still insist on doing it.”

You shook your head, disinterested in playing along with his games.

“What’s behind the curtain, Klaus?”

“Your certain demise.”

Fed up with the Mikaelson brothers’ apparent fondness for ambiguity, you yanked the curtains open, only to be met with a searing pain followed by the sensation of being roughly moved to the opposite end of the room.

Your face got the worst of it, and you retched as the scent of burning skin filled your nostrils. With shaky knees, you collapsed to the floor, squeezing your eyes shut and screaming over the sound of sizzling flesh. You were certain you were about to die for the second time in less than 24 hours.

While you sunk to the floor, Klaus followed suit. His hands stayed gripped on your biceps in the aftermath moving you away from whatever the fuck just burned your face. He sat back on his haunches as he watched you writhe.

After a few minutes, the pain started to subside. The burning smell disappeared. You could no longer feel popping blisters or hear your sizzling skin. Part of you just thought maybe your body finally went into shock, but as you cautiously checked your hands, you found them to be unscathed, as if nothing even happened.

“What the fuck,” you panted and wiggled out of his grip. Klaus released you without protest.

“Vampires can’t go in the sun. You’ll quite literally burn up.”

“Why couldn’t you and Elijah have just said that!? Just something simple like: _Hey, don’t go in the sun, you’ll literally fucking die_.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He replied with a half-smile. “Besides, I’ve found that there’s no better teacher than experience.”

He rose to his feet and offered his hand to help you up. You snorted and swatted it away, missing the impish glimmer in his eye as you stood on your own. Things still felt a bit wobbly, though you realized it was no longer from the sun, but rather, you were incredibly hungry. It left you feeling very lightheaded. Klaus had, of course, already noticed.

“Its been too long since you’ve fed. You need to be careful of that, especially having only just turned. We can’t have you going on a bloodthirsty rampage about the city—as much as I would enjoy seeing that.”

“If I can’t go in the sun, how—”

“I’ve taken care of that, love, if you’ll just follow me.”

* * *

_**3 Months Prior.** _

_“So—you now know my poison. It seems only fair I know yours.”_

_This was the second night in a row Klaus showed up. Without the distractions of his brother or a few dozen partygoers, he was much more attentive towards you. Naturally, you did your best not to reciprocate. It was foolish, childish little game you were playing, but when you learned he’d just moved to town, and wasn’t only visiting, you decided he was worth the extra energy._

_He was very clearly the type of man who things wouldn’t end well with. You were destined to crash and burn at his side, should you get involved with him in any capacity, but with a jaw like his and eyes that were already fucking you senseless, you knew you were a lost cause. Something told you he knew it, too, but that could have also been your coworkers teasing you every time he was out of earshot._

_“Whiskey sours,” you replied. “Ideally with one of the bourbon cherries my boss makes.”_

_Klaus threw back the remaining drops of his drink and exhaled audibly. “I’ll take one.”_

_You scoffed in mock offense as you busied yourself making his drink. “Sounds like you were just trying to figure out a way to torture me while I’m stuck here behind the bar.”_

_You could practically hear the sound of your coworkers rolling your eyes. It was an awful joke, for sure, you knew it, they knew it, and he knew it, but he ate it up, regardless._

_“I have been known to indulge in inflicting pain every so often.”_

_He looked at his empty glass and swirled it absently as he spoke. The remaining ice clinked musically against the sides. You heard the challenge in his voice. He was daring you to stop what you were doing. Put down the shaker and look him in the eye, but you resisted the urge. This only seemed to interest him more, and when you looked up after carefully garnishing the glass with two skewered cherries, he was leaned forward slightly, watching you with an intense curiosity._

_“I still got three hours until close. I’m living vicariously through you, so you better thoroughly enjoy that.” You decided it was best to sidestep his previous comment as casually as possible._

_“Cheers,” Klaus replied, but didn’t touch the glass. Instead, he carefully picked up the skewer, plucked a cherry off, and popped it in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully and took a moment to scan the other patrons in the bar before returning his attention to you. You didn’t miss the way he ran his tongue lightly over his bottom lip._

_“Aren’t they incredible? She lets them soak for like three months or something.”_

_“I’ll have to make note of that for next time, however, I must be going now. I have business elsewhere that needs my attention,” he tossed a few bills on the bar and pushed the glass towards you. “Enjoy your drink.”_

_“I’m working I—”_

_“It’ll be our little secret, love.”_

* * *

You felt your energy return to you and then some as you fed on a nameless businesswoman Klaus plucked off the street for you. He referred to her as a peace offering, though you barely registered what he said as you plunged your fangs into her neck. She stayed still and quiet, and you could only assume Klaus compelled her to do so—you looked forward to learning such a handy skill.

He watched you ravage her for a time. It’d been a while since he turned anyone, and he forgot just how much he relished seeing the violent chaos that came with transitioning. Granted, this had never been his goal for you. He enjoyed you very much as a human, and would have preferred you stayed that way. It was the light in your eyes that he liked the most. The way you perked up a bit when he walked through the door. The sound of your heart thumping in your chest when he’d do something as silly as smile. You were going to do just fine as a vampire, he only hoped he didn’t snuff out your light in the process.


	6. The Painting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You discover that Klaus has been very busy painting a portrait of a certain someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Implied smut. Klaus being a pain in everyone's ass. Brief blood drinking.

“Your family sure does throw a lot of parties.”

You were in a boutique you’d never heard of, sifting through a rack of dresses that seemed as though they were designed to be ugly. Rebekah was only a few feet away, mulling over a pair of shoes with a similar look of disgust on her face. She hummed in response without looking at you.

“They’re a wonderfully universal language when it comes to making introductions or getting a point across,” Rebekah said. “There are certainly worse things in the world.”

“Makes sense. Was the ball an introduction or a statement?”

It’d been two weeks since Klaus turned you, and you finally regained enough control over yourself that Elijah deemed it safe for you to venture out of their home. He was relatively absent most of the time, as was Klaus, though while Elijah was off arranging sketchy meetings and digging up dirt on city officials, the younger of the two spent most of his time locked in his room.

It was Marcel who took you under his wing. He taught you what you needed to know. Showed you how to hunt and compel. Promised he’d set you up with a daylight ring when the time was right. He was clearly experienced with new vampires, and for that, you were grateful. Rebekah was kind to you, as well, in her own, tolerant sort of way, but you didn’t miss the looks of suspicion the men of the house would shoot her when she spent time around you. She only ever explained herself once. _Us girls have got to stick together._ That was good enough for you.

But learning your new place in the world had been hard work, and it wasn’t until now that you finally had the chance to wonder: _who the fuck were these people?_ You’d gathered bits and pieces about the Mikaelsons. They were important, powerful, and _old_ , but aside from that, they were a mystery.

“ _All_ introductions are statements in their own right,” she paused thoughtfully. “My brothers told me it was for observational purposes, to gauge the state of things since we’d last been here. But knowing them, they wasted no time in letting anyone with an ounce of influence in this city know Chicago is ours.”

“Okay so then what’s the point of Saturday?” You pressed.

One of your very few interactions with Elijah since your night together had been a brief, verbal invitation to _another_ Mikaelson party. It was what prompted the shopping trip to begin with.

Rebekah looked at you incredulously. 

“The ball was for the humans. This is for everyone else.”

“Everyone else?”

“Surely you aren’t naïve enough to think _you’re_ the only vampire here.”

“No,” you lied, “of course I figured there were others, but all I got from Elijah was a date, time, and location of this thing. I don’t even know the dress code. How am I supposed to know who’s on the guestlist?”

Rebekah seemed thoroughly annoyed now. “This event has the same intention of the ball: let the vampires and witches know we’re here. Remind them this city belongs to us. Scout out any potential threats,” she pulled the dress you were holding out of your hand and hung it back on the rack without breaking eye contact. “A word of advice. If you’re going to have any hope of surviving my family, you’ll have to get much better at _observing_ rather than _asking_. My brothers, especially, have a filthy habit of twisting their words—even Elijah. Don’t be fooled by his noble façade. He’s loyal to Klaus and Klaus alone.”

The growing anger in her voice suggested it wasn’t you she was bothered by, at least not entirely. But now wasn’t the time to unpack a thousand years of family drama.

“I guess I’m just struggling to wrap my head around what you have to gain by doing this. Are you trying to create a vampire army or something to take over the world?”

“ _Christ_ no. Our return here isn’t intended to be permanent. It’s miraculous that Nik would even leave his _precious_ New Orleans of his own volition. This is more of a distraction.”

“From?”

“The love of his life marrying a man he once called brother.”

* * *

Rebekah shut down shortly after revealing the reasoning behind their arrival, and the only further information you managed to pry from her was two names: Stefan and Caroline. There was a particularly nasty brand of venom in her voice at the mention of Stefan that urged you to stop asking questions. For now, at least.

You trudged upstairs to the guest room. Or rather, your room, now. You had yet to be officially invited to move in, but nobody had tried to kick you out, either, and if the choice was yours, you were going to stay in the gorgeous Victorian mansion filled with Hot Vampires as long as possible before going back to slumming it in your small apartment.

On the way back with Rebekah, you ended up taking a short detour that became a long detour. Two sleazy men caught your eye and you caught theirs in return. Rebekah was first to bare her fangs after leading them into an alley and you followed suit not long after. Each victim—each meal—made you feel more stable. More comfortable with what you’d become. It was the first time in your life you’d ever truly been fearless, and it was the most empowering thing in the world. You just had to work on remembering that you still hadn’t fully learned control. Rebekah had to stop you from drinking too much.

 _We can’t go leaving bodies sucked dry in the street,_ she scolded. _That’s the best way to expose our kind._

You ushered her into a nearby bar. Bought her a drink as an apology. One drink turned into two. Turned into three. Turned into a bonding experience that lasted until the sun was dangerously close to rising.

The curtains in the hall leading to your room were all drawn shut. Elijah always made a point to close them on your behalf. You’d caught Klaus checking on them once, too, and it made your heart skip a beat or two or seven.

You passed his door. Closed, as usual. But the one next to it was cracked slightly for the first time since you’d been brought there.

You knew you weren’t supposed to go near it. There was a reason it was always closed. But you couldn’t help yourself, and you cautiously pushed it open a bit more, praying the antique hinges wouldn’t squeak.

There was no noise and no occupant inside—the best-case scenario—so you ventured in. It was somewhat messy. A cloth covered most of the floor. It was bunched slightly in the places it’d been walked over. Bits of paint dotted the center. They made a sort of crooked ring around an easel holding a large canvas.

The painting wasn’t anywhere near finished, but still captivated you. Heavy, textured brush strokes made trees that were bare, save for bits of snow resting precariously on the branches. A full moon loomed in the background. The foundation of a periwinkle stream flowed through the blank center of the canvas. Two figures faced one another from each side.

The first was a large stallion with a black and gray coat. It had a disheveled, stringy mane that fell wildly about its neck as it drank from the stream. The other was a woman in a long blue dress with golden hair curled and twisted into an elaborate updo. She clutched a silvery shawl around her shoulders as she gazed at the horse across the way. Her features were soft and delicate and painted with care. You could only assume this was Caroline.

“It’s unspeakably rude to go poking around where you’re not welcome.”

His voice didn’t startle you. Part of you knew he’d show up. Part of you hoped he would. Turning around and looking at his face brought a wave of…something over you.

You didn’t want to be angry with Klaus, but you couldn’t help it. He’d led you on. Used you. Turned you. Abandoned you. And even though you thrived as a vampire, you were still furious with the way you became one. His irresponsibility and disregard for your life were the reasons you died. His manipulation was what took away your choice to accept your transition. But there was also the consistent rage you felt towards yourself. You _wanted_ to forgive him for the unforgiveable. You still cared for him.

“I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten I existed. This is the first time you’ve spoken to me in weeks,” you snapped.

“I’ve been preoccupied with more pressing matters, but my apologies for neglecting my babysitting duties. I assumed Elijah was giving you all the attention you needed.”

“Oh, fuck _off_. If that’s really what has you so moody you wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of bringing me fresh blood the other day…or other _week_ , now, I guess.”

“I just didn’t want you running rampant about the city, love. The last time I left a new vampire unattended on the streets of Chicago, he built a literal _Murder Castle_. Bit of a crude name, if you ask me, but then again, this city isn’t exactly known for its brilliant minds.”

You opened your mouth in rebuttal, paused, and then closed it again. “H. H. Holmes was a vampire _?_ ”

“Both a vampire and a parasitic thorn in my side. But I digress.”

“Right. Can’t get distracted from you insulting me, my character, and—to top it all off—my city.”

“You’re awfully defensive for a trespasser, don’t you think?”

“And you’re a dick.”

“For what? For opening my home to you? Gifting you the world?”

“That’s a weird way of saying you turned me into a vampire and now you’re stuck with me because you’re afraid I’ll become America’s Next Top Serial Killer.”

His form blurred for an instant as he closed in on you, bringing along a rush of cool air that turned hot when he stopped barely a finger’s-breadth from your face.

“Let’s get one thing sparkling clear. I’ve ripped the beating hearts from tyrannical warmongers and benevolent kings alike for far lesser things than the disrespect you’re showing me now. I fear nothing. I fear no one. Least of all you,” each word he spat was more acidic than the last. After a lengthy pause, he stepped back and you realized you’d been holding your breath. For the first time since meeting him, you felt afraid. “Be grateful for the charity I’ve shown you. Now go run off to your Elijah.”

And so you did.

* * *

When you arrived at Elijah’s room, it was apparent he heard your exchange with Klaus. He was stiff upon the initial kiss you pressed to his lips, but soon tore at your clothes with an even stronger hunger than before. A bond had formed between the two of you, one born from the shared anger you felt toward Niklaus Mikaelson, and you spent the morning tangled together getting your petty revenge fix.

You were sure to call out Elijah’s name loud enough for the entire city to hear, and he was sure to give you reason to do it over and over and over again.

When all was said and done, he walked you back to your room, keeping slightly in front of you to be sure no sunlight seeped through the curtains. Making the switch to being nocturnal was proving to be more difficult than you thought, especially knowing there was a way it didn’t have to be like this. After countless jokes with your friends and family over the years about your awful sleep schedule and disdain for going outside, you sure missed the sun. You made a mental note to pester Marcel again about the status of your daylight ring.

You were exhausted both emotionally and physically, so you fell asleep quickly. But even unconscious, there was no peace. Only Klaus.

You dreamt you were in the glade from his painting, only instead of dead trees under the moonlight, it was spring and the sun was high. You sat on the banks of the stream and dipped your feet in the water, giggling when a curious little fish nipped at your toe before darting away. Klaus was beside you, holding an open book but looking at you with a smile on his face—your laughter had pulled his attention from the pages.

He said something unintelligible, but his words must have been sweet because you leaned over to kiss his cheek. Then his jaw. Then the spot just below his ear. Then your fangs were sunk deep in his neck, and he sighed blissfully as you fed on him. His blood tasted like bourbon cherries.

When you woke up, it was dark out and your bed was still empty. You rolled over and held a pillow to your aching chest, feeling very stupid as you pretended it was him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long to update! Thank you for sticking with me, and thank you to everyone who has commented/left kudos. It makes me so happy to see that people are liking the story so far!


	7. Dirty Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus gets territorial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK BAYBEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Does this chapter feature a Breathe Carolina song from 2011? It sure does.

Marcel clinked his glass against Klaus’s and gazed out at the crowd. The air buzzed with a hungry tension that could only come from the strained libidos of witches and vampires forced to mingle. He wondered how many would couple up tonight and how many would try to kill each other.

If they were back in New Orleans, a fight or two would have broken out by now, but it seemed each of Chicago’s supernatural factions had quiet understandings of one another. The lack of werewolves in the area likely helped; Northern Illinois was much too urbanized for any of them to turn undetected. Marcel was concerned about how much time that left him with, though. If everyone was as submissive as they seemed, Klaus would surely lose interest in this little project and come tearing back to ruin what Marcel rebuilt in his absence.

Granted, he was no fool and already had a plan B and C and D for stirring up trouble to keep the hybrid engaged…but when you came into the picture, all of that went out the window. You, who was a ray of hope that _maybe_ Klaus would make his stay in Chicago a permanent one, leaving him and Rebekah to finally be happy in a Klaus-less New Orleans. If only you’d stop fucking his brother.

“Helluva party,” Marcel remarked as he sipped from his glass.

The corner of Klaus’s mouth turned up, amused. He stretched an arm over the back of the red velvet booth and continued his surveillance of the room.

“Yes, my brother has outdone himself once more.”

“And you’re missing out by sulking in the darkest corner of the joint.”

Klaus snorted and swigged his drink. “Chicago once housed history’s most notorious criminals. It was wild. It had glamour. Blood flowed like champagne. I look around and see so many familiar faces. Men who once served under me but had enough fire in them to do so kicking and screaming. And now what? They live quietly in the shadows while their names become _tourist attractions?_ I have a difficult time believing those in this room have chosen such a disappointing path. They’re plotting something.”

He was being paranoid, as usual, though Marcel couldn’t blame him. A thousand years of being betrayed and hunted by everyone you knew would do that to a person, and he did have a point. Chicago’s lawlessness once drew the attention not only of the Original Hybrid, but history’s most notorious Ripper, too. He couldn’t speak for the witches, but the vampires in this room were tougher than most—more territorial. Something was bound to be up.

Marcel did a quick scan for Rebekah. She was perfectly fine, of course, soaking up attention in the satin Dolce & Gabbana dress he’d gifted her that morning. He held the rim of his glass against his lips for a beat as he admired her, then polished off the rest of his bourbon.

“Yeah, it’s likely. If you want my advice, I suggest you either actually start looking for signs of trouble or switch tables, because the one over there has a much better view of what you got your eye on now.”

* * *

Elijah remained stoic as you adjusted his tie. There was nothing that needed fixing, but you’d developed somewhat of a tic—whenever Klaus was near, you automatically found yourself showing the elder Mikaelson small acts of affection. Plucking non-existent lint from his jackets. Straightening his pocket squares. Brushing your fingers over the back of his hand. Little, intimate things to prove how _over_ Klaus you were. Elijah tolerated it most of the time, but never refrained from pointing out your childishness.

Eventually he took hold of your wrist and moved your hand away. He was gentle about it, but the firmness of his grasp made it clear that was enough for the night. You crinkled your nose in protest, but obliged.

He narrowed his eyes—a quiet reminder of who he was—and you recoiled. After learning the Mikaelsons were not only the most powerful vampires, but also the _originals_ , you felt just a little smaller in their presence. A little nervous. A little surprised they were so hospitable. At least, with the exception of Klaus—and speak of the devil, there he was.

You hadn’t even been looking for him, and yet his magnetism drew your eyes directly to the corner booth he was tucked away in. He wore black, as usual, and it camouflaged him somewhat under the poor lighting, but you could still make out his features clearly. In spite of yourself, you noted his clothes were slightly more formal than his signature Henley’s. He wore an expensive looking sport coat and black button down left open to expose his collarbones, and dammit did he look good.

Again, you wondered: could you forgive him for what he’d done? Your feelings for Klaus were undeniable, and though you’d never admit it out loud, you liked the new you much better than the person you were before. Aside from not being able to go in the sun, being a vampire was…fucking amazing.

Even if you did swallow your pride and forgive him, though, there was still the Caroline Problem. He was crazy about her it was blatantly clear just from his unfinished painting. You tried not to think about it, but naturally you couldn’t get her out of your head in the worst sort of way. What did she look like? Sound like? Act like? What made her so special? What made her better than you?

Elijah pressed a drink into your hand that he grabbed off a tray of a passing waiter.

“Try to enjoy yourself. Keep your guard up. There’s not a single person in this room you can trust.”

* * *

Klaus watched you curiously. Even over the noise of the party, his vampiric hearing easily picked up Elijah’s words of advice— _keep your guard up, there’s not a single person in this room you can trust_ —and yet there you were, with your guard very much down. It was admittedly entertaining to watch, especially when you managed to select one of the most dangerous vampires in the city as your dance partner. 

It was coming up on 90 years since Klaus had seen him last, and it seemed time didn’t do much to change him. Aside from the updated wardrobe, he sported the exact haircut and half-smile he did back in nineteen twenty-something when Klaus turned him. He’d been a good subordinate. One of the few who actually showed him a little respect, until he didn’t, after which Klaus had him buried alive upon Stefan’s suggestion. Had city historians not taken an interest in exhuming his body a few years prior, he’d likely still be down there rotting.

Klaus wondered: had he not dropped his name yet? Or did you just not care that John Dillinger’s hands were firmly grasping your ass?

The more he looked on, the more he felt a very special brand of acidity bubble around within him. It was a jealousy once reserved for Tyler Lockwood each time he saw Caroline run to his arms. He despised himself for it—the great Klaus Mikaelson, jealous of one of his underlings. At least Tyler’s existence was somewhat valuable at the time. John was just a washed-up criminal who made a modern day living as a guide for Chicago’s _Gangsters and Ghosts_ tour—he’d laughed harder than he had in a century when Elijah told him.

He wasn’t laughing now, though. Not as he finished his drink or stood up or got a better and better view of John’s smug fucking face the closer he got.

“Well, well, I see we’ve been very busy making new friends.”

Startled, you whipped your head around at the sound of Klaus’s voice. He was wearing a tight-lipped smile with a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. It was enough to make you forget your dance partner, if only briefly. When you opened your mouth to say something—you weren’t sure what—you were cut off.

“Klaus! I heard you came into town but was starting to think your bluenose brother was just tossing your name around to rile everyone up.”

You looked back and forth between the two men. There was a hostility between them that made you shift uncomfortably. “So, you know each other…?”

“Everyone here knows me, love, but John and I go back,” he paused and brought a finger thoughtfully to his lips, “let’s see…the last time I saw you, I believe you were being nailed into a nasty little coffin, isn’t that right?”

John shrunk in on himself, but tried to maintain his composure. “Listen, what do you say to letting bygones be bygones? Chicago has changed a lot since you and Stefan were running things. I can get you caught up—”

As if you weren’t already intrigued by _whatever_ the hell this exchange was, your interest was even more piqued at the mention of the ever-so-mysterious Stefan. Much to your disappointment, though, Klaus glossed over it.

“The longer you stand here, the more I regret my decision to let you live. The best thing you can do for me is thank your stars I’ve chosen to leave you intact for a _second_ time and run along back to your _tourist attractions._ ”

Klaus’s confident stance. The way he so casually reduced the other vampire to a cowering mess with just his words. The air of boredom that hung about him as he did so…it was a good look for him. So much so, that he’d finally managed to knock aside that pesky grudge you clung to.

You took a breath to keep your newly admitted feelings from showing on your face. Now was not the time or place to give Klaus the satisfaction that, like everything in his life, he won. Your relationship with him—nonexistent as it was—had suddenly become very fragile now that you were back to quietly loathing yourself in the same way as before; when he was still just a man who frequented your bar, and you were a puppy-lovestruck idiot. 

“What was all that about?” You tried your best to maintain your usual snippy tone with him. He seemed to buy it.

“If you’re going to toy with my brother’s heart, have enough respect to do so in private; perhaps with a higher caliber of man.”

So he’d seen through your façade with Elijah, after all. If there was any truth to his words, you suspected you’d be long dead. A family as tight-knit as the Mikaelsons didn’t go around giving advice on how to have affairs.

“Something tells me you already know Elijah and I aren’t emotionally involved.”

Klaus smiled and moved closer. Closer, closer, and closer to you. Until his lips barely grazed your ear. “Call it intuition.”

Ever your tormenter, he pulled away afterwards with the clear intention to abandon you on the dance floor, but you gripped his wrist before he could leave.

“I like this song,” you insisted.

He tilted his head up slightly as he absorbed the music, then grasped your hips to pull you against him. Your bodies collided on beat with the song as it dropped into the chorus, and it was positively poetic.

_No red lights, down to ride all night, oh—_

Klaus whipped you around so he was pressed against your back, and you didn’t fail to notice the similarity to your first night with Elijah when he’d done the same thing, despite the circumstances being…slightly different. It offered a deeper understanding of both brothers and their _need_ to be in control. You quickly forgot about Elijah’s existence, though, when Klaus’s hands wandered. He pressed his palm on your chest between your collarbones, and dragged it slowly down your torso before resting it on your lower belly, just above the hem of your panties. You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the moment as you reached back to caress his jaw.

_Tell me that you’re ready ‘cause I don’t wanna hit and run_

This was what you’d wanted for _so long_. To feel him against you. To be the only woman in his life, even if just for the length of a song. It was exhilarating and just a little bit heart wrenching when you did your best not to wonder what was going to happen next.

He turned his head to kiss the tips of your fingers as you started to pull your hand away from his cheek, and for some reason. For some stupid, _fucking_ reason. You took it as a cue to spin around, fangs extended, so you could drink from his neck.

Klaus’s hand blurred as he gripped your jaw, stopping you.

“Sorry, love. That’s not how this works.”

You felt sick to your stomach. “I’m sorry, I got lost in the moment and—and I…I thought it was a thing. I’m sorry.”

He grit his teeth. There it was again. That special sort of jealousy he so rarely felt. Elijah must have bloodshared with you and it was infuriating. He’d have to treat lightly around his brother for a time, now. Elijah would surely throw it in his face if the situation called for it, and though he still didn’t fully understand what his feelings for you actually were, he knew he didn’t have the bandwidth to pretend he didn’t care. Not when Caroline had him so…vulnerable. 

He didn’t bother saying anything as he stormed off, leaving you aching and alone.

* * *

Caroline had to make a big decision about a small piece of paper.

On one hand, she could tear it into a thousand tiny pieces and burn them to ash. On the other, she could give it to the person it was actually addressed to. A large part of her leaned towards the latter option. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t the end of the world that she opened Stefan’s mail, but at the same time, little things like that had a nasty habit of nagging at her. Silly as it was, she wasn’t sure if she could spend eternity keeping it a secret.

She reassured herself she hadn’t become one of _those_ wives. The type who dug through their partner’s things to make sure they were behaving. This was a special circumstance. This was an envelope with a red wax seal and an all too familiar _M_ stamped in the middle. With it, came a heavy rock that formed in her gut.

It was an invitation to Rebekah’s engagement party, styled the same as the one she’d received to the Mikaelson family ball Klaus asked her to, what felt like centuries ago. For the first time in god knows how long, she thought about the chest she’d hidden away in the Salvatores’ attic. The one that contained the many gifts Klaus presented her with during his stay in Mystic Falls. The dresses, the bracelet, the drawing. Klaus was a thing of the past in her mind. Her heart belonged to Stefan and Stefan alone, but even so, she still wasn’t able to give away the remnants of his love.

_He’s your first love. I intend to be your last._

Caroline shuddered, remembering the words he spoke so confidently to her the day of her graduation, and with a heavy heart, accepted that their paths were going to cross once more. The envelope held a second piece of stationary—a note from Rebekah making an offer she knew neither she nor Stefan could refuse.

On the bright side, she’d always wanted to visit New Orleans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for bearing with me during my unplanned hiatus. I hope people are still reading! If you maybe sort of possibly wanted to leave a comment or some kudos that would be amazing :)


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